


What It Is You've Taught Me

by literal_trash51



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Advanced Technology, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, As emotionally dense as a brick, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, But the brick is better, Dark Past, Dorks in Love, Espionage, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Evil Schemes, Falling In Love, Fighting Kink, Fluff and Angst, Hitman - Freeform AU, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Youtube and a lack of sleep, Me thinks anyway, Mentioned deaths, Mobians on Earth, Multi, Murder, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Not so subtle staring, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Shadow is too but in a warmer way, Slow Burn, Sonic is cold in this, Sparring, Worldbuilding, Written at ungodly hours of the night, You'll see what I mean, learning who you are, not canon in the slightest, overcoming the past, spontaneous updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literal_trash51/pseuds/literal_trash51
Summary: There's a sort of clarity one gets when they make their first kill that changes who they are forever... At least, that's what he thinks.There's no definitive line between good and bad - it's all blurred... At least, that's what he thinks.There's no life for him outside of the one of blood, lies, and secrets that he's accustomed himself to so well... At least, that's what he thinks.There is no way someone could love him if they knew why he became like this, who he is, and what he can do...At least, that's what he thought.The world he thinks he knows is slowly being turned over, not only by the new and shocking revelations he finds with every mission, but by a male whose stubbornness, sharp tongue, and need to remind him that he's not the only one capable of murder is sure to be the death of him...Or maybe his resurrection.ORA Sonadow AU where Sonic is a hitman and Shadow is assigned to be his new guide/techie/person in the van/partner/intelligence officer. What ensues would be considered a romcom were it not for the fact that they are stubborn, sarcastic, cold, and in love.
Relationships: Amy Rose/Silver the Hedgehog - background, Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 20
Kudos: 60





	1. A New Addition to My Problems

He huffed quietly into the cold and frigid air, his breath materializing briefly just in front of his face and giving off a small flare of heat against his muzzle before dissipating into the air as though it wasn’t there to begin with. He brought the back of his gloved hand up to the corner of his mouth to wipe the dribble of blood he had felt perching there. If he’d only moved quicker, he could’ve avoided it being there altogether, but that small bit of luck hadn’t been on his side. All his luck had probably left him when he’d answered the phone three hours prior.

He glanced offhandedly at his glove to see just how hard the guy had clocked him, but was only met with the sleek, inky blackness that was always there. For a moment, he considered changing the colour of the skin-tight, latex-looking gloves he always wore or forgoing them altogether. For a very brief moment he considered taking his gloves off right there and then and leaving them on the barren roof as a sign that he was finished – and not just for the day. But just as his breath had, the idea disappeared as quickly as it had been formed and he was strolling towards the metal ladder without so much as a hitch in his steps.

The night was silent and dark and damn-near oppressive with the cold that tried to wiggle its way between him and his tight-fitting suit. It didn’t feel any better when the freezing temperatures of the ladder bit against his bare palms even through the supple insulation of his gloves and the only sound that could be heard was the scrape and clang of his shoes scuffing along the rungs while the ladder shifted and swayed with his weight. There were no howling dogs to pester him. There were no passers-by to force him into action or defensive manoeuvres. There was no bad guy waiting below or above him to try take him down for what he’d done. There was nothing but the stilted silence of the night and the taunting cold of Northern Russia.

He wished there was something. Anything. Even just a minor disturbance that he’d have to investigate and analyse before acting on. Even just a stray animal to take to safety from the cold bite in the air. He just needed something that would delay him having to leave. Something that could off-put whatever bullshit he’d have to face when he got back. Something to distract him from it maybe. Just… Something.

But it seemed the universe was done answering his pleas for help, because when his feet crunched into the snow after he leaped off the last rung, nothing happened. Nothing approached him, nothing made a sound, and nothing changed. The street was still silent and bare, save for the mounds of snowflakes crowding near the windows and doors of shops and apartment lobbies. A light didn’t even flicker on in all the dark windows of all the buildings around him.

He huffed yet again before reaching a hand into the inside of his blazer and fiddling for his phone in one of the numerous pockets. He pulled it out just as it buzzed faintly with a notification.

 **_Amy Rose – 02:34 IRKT (UTC +8)  
_ ** _Transport vehicle dispatched to previously discussed pickup point. ETA 20 mins. Confirm extraction with Agent Code._

For another one of those brief moments he contemplated ignoring the message and finding a new method of transport – if only so he can cause a little upheaval and show them that he can do as he damn pleases and will not be called for like some kind of servant. The idea was more than appealing, and he found himself smirking at the mental image of all the red faces he’d see when – or rather if – he decided to grace them with his presence. He revelled in the feeling of triumph and arrogance the image brought, feelings that would surely be so much more enjoyable if they were a memory and not an annoyance induced daydream.

Almost as though the image were controlled by the temperature around him, it flickered in and out of his mental awareness when a light but crisp wind kissed along his cheeks, bring with it the grating image of the empty suburban street he was standing in and the glowing message on the phone he’d neglected in his hand. He gave a heavy sigh as he typed a reply, returned the phone to its pocket, and began a brisk walk towards his collection point.

 **_You – 02:36 IKRT (UTC +8)  
_ ** _0910-6102-0047  
_ _Agent 47_

He ignored the vibrations he felt against his chest as he continued down the dimly lit street.

 **_Amy Rose– 02:37 IKRT (UTC +8)  
_ ** _Extraction confirmed. Safe travels, 47._

 **_Amy Rose (Private) – 02:39 IKRT (UTC +8)  
_ ** _When you get here, please show up unarmed and in the best mood physically possible because we all know that you won’t be happy regardless of what they say and I’m not sure if anyone is ready for that bloodbath or its traumas_

~~~~~

“Sit.” He almost retorted with _‘What? No please?’_ but bit the jibe back as he dropped himself neatly into the plush red chair in front of the ash wood desk, elbows instinctively going to perch on the armrests with his fingers tented under his chin and his ankle over a knee. He watched for a split-second as the sunlight streaming in through the large bay windows caught on his leather dress shoes and glinted on his TagHeuer watch with an azure blue dial and bezel, gold band, and silver case. He then drew his eyes up towards the two imposing – or so they thought – Mobians seated on the other side of the desk. Their eyes were near glowing under the sun’s influence, making the hardness and disapproval in their expressions even more poignant. It was with great effort that he bit back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Report.”

And so, he told them. He told them of how his scouting days had been insightful but not in the least bit eventful or troublesome. He told them of the stories he’d heard from the people in the area of Luis and all his lucrative, dangerous, and daring ventures. He told them of the woman he always had in his company that he was beating when no one was looking – or rather when he told them that they shouldn’t looking but they did anyway. He told them how he’d acted earlier than he was supposed to because of it and how he didn’t regret it.

He told them about the guy who had clocked him while he was staring at Luis’ body in thought and how he’d clocked him right back, but in his windpipe, and had made him the lucky victim in a staged scene. He told them how he snapped Luis neck and left him in a scene he’d staged to look like a disagreement between two evil colleagues, adding in every sordid detail and having the pleasure of watching the two males cringe and back away a bit from the detailed description. He told them everything with all the gory bits left in and did it all with a small smirk gracing his peach lips.

The two Mobians, while trying their best to look unbothered, were staring uneasily at him and were fidgeting beneath the desk. He wondered if they had ever seen a day in the field before being moved into these cushy seats above everyone else. He also wondered if they felt threatened by him but quickly dismissed the thought when his answer came in the form of an almost audible gulp. When he was done talking, he removed his steepled fingers from beneath his chin and instead laid one arm fully on the armrest while the other held his head comfortably in the palm of his hand, a predatory gleam making its way into his eyes and intertwining with his smirk.

“Well, forty-seven…” The Mobian on the left – a white-furred fox with ice blue eyes and hair that just brushed his eyelids dressed in what he could only guess was a deep blue Armani suit and a half-buttoned white t-shirt – seemed to lose whatever it is he had to say because he kept glancing around the room frantically while thinning and pouting his lips repeatedly. His companion covered for him almost immediately though, trying to maintain their air of importance despite the way they were both damn-near shaking.

“What happened to the woman? If he always had her with him then surely she was there when…”

He let the smirk on his face grow into an enigmatic smile – mainly from amusement, and partly to cover up the slight twinge at the memory of her. She’d had scars all over her arms and was sporting a busted lip and black eye when he’d watched her leave the building while trying to scurry into a large overcoat. Her makeup had been done well enough to make the black eye look like simple sleep deprivation rather than domestic abuse. It had pained and angered him to see her so thoroughly broken to a point where he might’ve just stormed the building right then and there were it not for his years of training. He made sure to anonymously leave her with enough to look after herself for a while – courtesy of Luis’ bank account –, the number of a good psychologist, and a little encouraging note to get her to go and seek the comfort and affection she deserved.

No, it’d be better if they didn’t see this particular emotion from him. Made things less complicated. The two in front of him, however, seemed to have interpreted it differently.

“Sweet Chaos! You didn’t kill her too, did you? Or…” The accusation was in his eyes and he gripped the armrest just a tad bit tighter to keep from tensing up entirely and turning the entire situation into a crime scene.

“I may be a killer,” the words sounded hollow as he said them, like he was merely reciting them from some script in his mind. But the coldness and venom in it was genuine and could be heard even if you wore noise-cancelling headphones.

“But I am not heartless. I didn’t rape her, nor did I kill her. She wasn’t present when I killed him as I had sent a message to her declaring that some or other relative was sick and in the hospital and that she was in the emergency contacts list. When she got there, a contact of mine played it off as a mix-up of having looked up the wrong details or something along those lines. I didn’t ask him for specifics. I just told him to do his job and trusted him enough to do it well and as ethically as one can when they’re lying or killing in cold-blood.”

The room had fallen into a hush. Even the sunlight that was warming his face and the few mugs scattered on the desk seemed to dim and numb like a thick insulator had been thrown around the room and was preventing anything remotely positive from leaking in. The Mobians across from him took notice of this instantly but didn’t dare poke a hole in it. Didn’t dare provoke him into doing what he was well-known for. Instead, they nodded frantically before developing an almost comical interest in the folders and papers that cluttered their workspace.

He made to stand up as he said, “If that is all?”

“Actually,” the Mobian on the right – a skunk with slimy green eyes, a shock of white hair and a well-pressed black suit with a fully-buttoned t-shirt and a tie to match his irises – said, his tone sounding strained like he was holding back the feelings and words he truly wanted to express. It made him sound desperate and when has desperate ever been a good look for the people he dealt with? Nonetheless, he resettled in his chair and raised an eye ridge as a gesture to go on.

“We called you here because there was something we wanted to discuss.”

This time, he didn’t hold back the deadpan that suggested it had been done already. This irritated the skunk enough to continue, but not without giving a reproachful glare.

“You need to be assigned a partner.” He waited for the punchline. For the laugh that would clearly indicate that this was a joke. A really bad joke. None came. And when he bothered to look at the Mobian in front of him, he only saw resolution in his eyes.

“Let’s face it, this thing of having to have scouting days is taking up a lot of time and makes things complicated when it comes to deadlines. We can’t stick to a deadline anymore because we’ll discover something during a scouting day that will require another day of scouting if you want to investigate, analyse, and remember it so that you’ll be able to work unguided during your missions. Even then, it doesn’t help when a last-minute change occurs that not only jeopardizes the mission, but your life as well.”

He noted how the skunk said it as though he genuinely cared whether he survived or not so that he could call him out on it later. But for now, he sat in his seat calmly with his fingers once again tented under his chin and listened with a mix of contemplation and stupefaction.

“A partner minimises the risks that normally comes with missions. Plus, it reduces the need for you to have to come give us a detailed report on what has happened because your partner will have been the one who did the relevant research and can just filter it through to us. We’ll also have video footage and audio recordings and everything needed for our own records and filings which takes away the need for a meeting to report on what’s happened, therefore giving you more time for more missions or maybe even yourself since you won’t have to travel to and from here constantly – only occasionally.

“We’re upgrading into a more technologically based way of working that simplifies our jobs and makes it easier to do it. What better way to integrate you into it than through your own partner? They won’t be with you in the field so they won’t be a deadweight, but they will communicate with you through a wireless headset and have a small camera on you that will let them see what you see. They’re there to help you so you can ask them whatever and they can’t really object. It’s a win-win really.”

He took a moment to let it look like he was considering what had just been said before letting the ghost of the predatory smirk from before cross his lips. He honed his gaze on the white fox who had yet to add to the conversation as he spoke, as he prodded around for the right button.

“You want to give me someone who has no experience in the field or any idea as to how to handle life-or-death situations just because you want me to stick to deadlines? Does that not sound contradictory to you or am I just being a pessimist here? And regarding your _‘technologically based way of working’_ , it won’t change the fact that I will need to be there to actually kill the person – it only adds a way for things to go wrong because now there is a digital footprint leading right towards me.

“And as for your worry that I won’t come back alive, trust me when I say that if I died, half of the first world countries would fall first and since that isn’t happening any time soon, I’m unfortunately going to remain alive and kicking for a while. Also, this need for all this physical proof of what I’ve done is a little surreptitious don’t you think?”

And there it was. A slight flinch at the word surreptitious. Like there was more that that word implied that he wasn’t yet aware of. Like there was stuff about that word that would pose a lot of problems if he decided to figure it out. He analysed the fleeting look on the fox’s face intensely until he came to a sound thought.

_They don’t trust me. Either because they think I’m a loose cannon – as their distaste towards my actions and their want to see what I actually do suggests – or because…_

His thought ended there. He wasn’t sure what that alternate reason was, but he knew it was there. The fact that he couldn’t come up with it immediately only served to prove his point because if there were no other reason, he’d come up with simple ones that could be easily dismissed or disproved. But he couldn’t because his train of thought had stumbled upon a particularly interesting set of emotions lingering behind the snow-white fox’s eyes. He decided he’d dissect them later as he turned his gaze back to the skunk who was practically fuming at the sheer audacity he surely had to speak out against him like that.

“What are you suggesting, forty-seven?” He said through gritted teeth, shoulders tensed and knuckles white on his hands that were intertwined on his desk.

He gave a nonchalant shrug before glancing almost bemusedly out the window and saying, “Oh sorry, was I implying again? I meant to say it directly. I find it odd that you want proof of what I do. Makes it look an awful lot like you don’t trust me.”

“We can assure you that it is only the new standard procedure– ”

“Procedure my left ass-cheek,” he snarled as his gaze snapped back to the skunk in his suit.

“Forty-seven!” He shot up from the desk and slammed a hand on the table. The warning in his tone was evident. What it entailed, however, was not. “You’ll find that we are well within our rights to expel you from the agency if you do not comply.”

“You will find that you’re only able to say that firstly because you won’t be the sorry asshole who’ll have to do it and secondly because I’m severely unarmed – not that that has ever stopped me before and– ”

“Sonic!” The white fox chided, and it had the desired effect. Sonic curled away instinctively. Not out of fear but out of contempt towards the person that was. That person he no longer is. He felt his nose scrunch up in distaste at the memories that tried to claw their way through the coffin they’d been buried in along with the person they belonged to. Because that person wasn’t him. Not anymore. Not for a long time. Any and all retorts died on his lips as he stared balefully at the men across from him, hoping to fell them with the venom in his expression alone. No such occurred.

“Thank you, Sorther,” the words were tinged with a wicked sort of amusement when the skunk spoke. An amusement that seemed to grope at the wolf the same way it groped at Sonic.

“Please just get to the point, Wheeler,” he mumbled back, turning his head to stare determinedly out the bay windows. Dennis Wheeler rolled his eyes but made no move to object, he simply dug through a drawer near him before pulling out a plain-looking manila folder and tossing it towards the azure.

“This is everything you need to know regarding your partner,” he said.

“I’ve already been given one? I don’t get to be part of some screening process to choose who I work with?” Sonic asked, even as he picked up the folder and skimmed through it offhandedly.

“Nope. We couldn’t have you rejecting potential assets out of some misguided pettiness.”

The agent chose not to rise to the bait and instead asked, “When do I meet him?”

“Now, actually. He’s down in the lower TTC. Ms Rose will take you to him.”

For a moment, Sonic considered saying no. Considered being expelled for uncooperativeness and just leaving the hitman business altogether. It was an easy out. Not necessarily an honourable one, but one he could get away with if he ever decided to join the business again but under a new agency. He genuinely contemplated it. But a faint ringing in his ears from a distant life dispelled any other thoughts on the matter immediately. For the first time, he found himself willingly going along with what Clive Sorther and Dennis Wheeler wanted. Amy might develop an aneurysm when she found out.

“Fine. But if he’s not to my liking, I can get rid of him and won’t be given a partner at all.” Wheeler moved to object to the statement but was quickly cut off by Sonic’s explanation.

“Think about it. If the man you’ve systematically deduced is my perfect partner is not to my standards, then there is no person in the world good enough to work with me.”

The logic was sound. If a computer algorithm that was practically flawless gave him someone who was not in the least bit compatible with him, then clearly there was no one out there who’d be a near good enough match. Wheeler seemed to realize this too because his mouth hung open slightly despite how savagely his eyes burned with anger.

“You won’t be given a partner for a probationary period of three months,” Sorther offered, voice surprisingly steady and resolute despite his lack of input for most of this conversation. “If you fail a mission or only complete it by the skin of your teeth while on the probationary period, you’ll be forced to get a partner.”

“My partner has to be on a three-month probationary period if I meet him and let him live,” the agent countered. “The same rules as the probation you’ve described for me, applies to him. If something goes drastically wrong while he’s on the comms, he’s out.”

“You’re not allowed to trick him into failing if that’s the case,” the fox shot back. “He needs to fail on his own merits and the footage should point extensively towards that.”

“You’re not allowed to keep the footage for any of the missions during his probationary period.”

“Out of the question. I’ll let a third party review it and then delete it.”

“That goes against our ethos. We do it ourselves or it doesn’t get done at all. Outsiders can’t be trusted. Besides, with technology these days, they could somehow record it and store it. No reviewing.”

“I’ll let Amy review the footage and give us a report from it that is strictly text and images.”

“Pass. We’ll generate our own report using the visual footage and have it sent to you. You can keep that, but the original files and recordings get deleted.”

“Your report will have to have at least five videos, five images, and five pieces of statistics.”

“We’ll give you three videos, ten images, and two pieces of statistics.

“The report needs to be generated within 24-hours then.

“Make it 48-hours and I’ll throw in one piece of physical evidence and/or proof.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the two males rose from their seats gracefully and shook hands amicably – as though their entire exchange had been nothing more than a competitive but wholly friendly round of tennis. Wheeler clearly thought it was because he’d spent the whole conversation snapping his head from one person to the next with a barely restrained mix of astonishment, disbelief, and contempt. He was too shocked to even utter a command when the azure gave them both a clipped nod and promptly left their office, the door hissing shut softly.

Once on the other side of the wood, Sonic allowed his shoulders to slump and his eyes to roll to the back of his head as a low whine left his mouth. He absolutely hated those two. Sorther not as much, but still prominently enough.

It wasn’t that they were rude or condescending or short-tempered – or at least Sorther wasn’t – but it was that they thought they could tell him what to do. That they could control him like he belonged to them. Like they owned him. And maybe they did when it came to what missions and jobs he was given, but in any other regard, they had as much right to control him as the media did; which was to say not at fucking all.

He gave his shoulders a sharp roll before puffing out a breath from deep within his chest.

_And now I have to deal with a little tech boy telling me what side of the fucking toast I should butter. Fucking fantastic. I should’ve stayed in Russia. I’d have better luck with the mountain bears than that blasted idiot._

Maybe he was judging him too early on, but quite frankly he couldn’t care less. He didn’t work with people. It just wasn’t his thing. It was a miracle he even trusted Amy in all honesty. Why push his boundaries by asking him to trust another living, breathing thing to keep him alive?

Sonic shoved his hands into the pants pockets of the suit he’d hand washed and ironed on the flight back to the States. He let the faint smell of washing powder brush against his nose and lull him into a cold calm. Or at the very least, a semblance of it. Once he was sure he wouldn’t _‘accidentally’_ kick in the door, he turned and strolled down the hall lined with various office doors. He let his eyes lazily scan over the plaques marking each door as his legs took long, leisurely steps – looking to the world as though he had nothing better to do with his time and not a thought to worry him.

Amy, however, saw right through this bullshit when he’d reached the central reception desk in the middle of the floor.

“Who the hell did you cremate?” She asked without peeling her eyes from the glowing blue holographic screens in front of her, her white-gloved hand swiping to a different graph in the air.

“I thought you knew me better than to suspect I’d stoop to something as low as cremation. We all know I’m more of a drowning man myself.” She gave a light scoff, even as the corners of her lips twitched upwards.

“Do I need to send the medics to their office, or will we actually pass 32 days without incident?” Her tone was dry and bored, like she didn’t really need the answer to that because it’d disappoint her either way.

“It’s only been 32? I thought it’d been longer,” he feigned disbelief as he touched hand to his lips.

“Stevens might disagree with you there,” a wisp of humour coated her words, even as Sonic cringed at the thought.

“He’s still not back yet?”

“Oh no, he is. He’s just asked to be specifically informed of when you’re in the building so that he isn’t there too.”

It was Sonic’s turn to scoff and repress a smile at her words, the action seeming to finally draw Amy away from her screens as she turned to face him fully and give him a warm smile. Her jade eyes were alive with wry humour and welcome.

“It’s good to see you,” she said tenderly as she stepped around all the screens, holographs, and monitors arranged along the circular reception desk and came to embrace him. He found that he enjoyed the familiar warmth she brought with her and the faint feeling of home her hug gave off.

“You as well. Almost makes seeing those bastards worth it,” he quips.

“Nothing could ever be worth talking to our superiors in your eyes,” she retorted. He gave her a wolfish grin in return.

“You know me so well.” She only rolled her eyes as she gestured for him to walk with her.

Their steps beat out a comfortable rhythm as they walked side-by-side down the carpeted hallway. Sunlight was pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows placed at largely spaced intervals. Coupled with the warmth and comfortability of the silence between them, Sonic could almost describe the feeling of walking down the mundane corridors of HQ as homely – if he had a clue what the feeling of home felt like.

It was only when they had stepped into the elevator at the end of the hall, that the reality of what he was about to do set in. Suddenly, he felt more contempt than at home and was tempted to pull at his quills to subdue the feeling. Amy picked up on his mood shift as though she had a meter measuring it.

“I know this is all less than ideal– ” she tried but was cut off by a brief shake of the agent’s head.

“I don’t want a partner Ames. I don’t need one. It’s just another person to have to end up worrying about and I don’t need that.”

“You don’t even know why you need one.”

“The twin destroyers back on your floor believe I’m a loose cannon and think giving me a partner will somehow straighten me out – which is a kind of stupid assumption to make considering that I have a strong disregard for authority so more authority won’t fucking fix anything.”

“You are a loose cannon,” Sonic made to object, but Amy ploughed on. “You do as you damn well please which is endearing and a redeeming quality in some instances but is hella risky for the type of operation we’re running here. We know you can do your job just fine. We just don’t know to what extent and how complexly. Giving you a partner is more to appease the board than anything.”

His ears perked up at this and his previous argument against her assault on his character shrivelled in his throat.

“The board?” Amy blushed the blush she always did when she’d said more than she should’ve – which happened more often than anyone thought – and it only spurred his inquisitiveness on tenfold.

“Why does the board care about my actions?”

He was met by deliberate silence.

“What does the board think they know?”

More silence.

“What is the board planning?”

More silence… Then, “… They were thinking of suspending you.”

Sonic narrows his eyes so slowly one can almost hear it. Amy takes it as a cue to speak and almost vomits all the information out.

“When you requested extraction a whole two days earlier than your mission stated, it prompted Sorther and Wheeler to call you in immediately for a report because early extractions are never good things. However, their prompt to call you wasn’t from lack of trust. Quite the contrary. A member of the board was in the building and caught news of your early extraction and squealed to the other board members about it.

“They believed it was a sign you were getting out of control and told the twin destroyers that you should be removed. They disagreed, however, and instead opted to give you a partner to make sure something like this didn’t happen again. After a lot of negotiating, they accepted that as a suitable enough sort of punishment since it’s no secret that you despise working with others.”

She gave him a half-hearted glare that quickly dissolved into an eye roll and a barely repressed smile when she saw the smirk on his muzzle.

“Though based on whatever report you gave, they might be inclined to change their minds.”

“Why do you say that?” He asked as he cocked his head carefully to the side. At that moment, however, the elevator dinged open on the fifth floor; leaving Sonic to wonder how forty-five floors had flown by so quickly.

Out of instinctive chivalry, he stepped forward and placed a hand on the elevator door and gestured with the other for Amy to step out. She gave him another eye roll even as she bowed her head with a pleasant smile on her face as she passed over the metal threshold. Once she was out, he quickly slipped out himself and reappeared at her side. He stuck out the elbow closest to her in an offer and she gratefully slipped her hand through the gap.

“I’ve no clue if Silver is in today, so thanks,” she muttered to him as they walked almost leisurely down the hall. Sonic snorted in reply.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t just talk to the guy. He seems really interested in you,” he said as he glanced down at her from the corner of his eyes, keeping his eyes ahead for the most part to steer them out of the way of anyone walking towards them. That quick glance reminded him of how he was taller than her though. Not by much, only about five inches, but he sometimes forgot that with the amount of confidence and presence she exuded when she’d talk. One forgets she’s only 5’2” when she’s calling shots like it’s as simple as making a cup of coffee.

“Romances tend to distract people from their jobs… And give ammunition for water cooler gossip. Plus, I don’t think he’s my type,” she pouted her lips as though to emphasize the point.

“I have literally never met anyone with quite the attitude as you… Except maybe for him.”

“You’re just saying that to convince me to go on a date with him.”

“No. But out of curiosity, is it working?”

She groaned. “A little. But still, he’ll need to make a move instead of dancing around me.”

“He only dances around you because he’s not sure if you like him too. If you weren’t so busy shooting his attempts at flirting down like an F-15 Eagle, he’d take a leap and ask you to dinner.”

“Fine. I’ll flirt back today if he’s in. If he asks me to dinner, you get bragging and _‘I told you so’_ rights. If he doesn’t, you owe me dinner.” Sonic gave a genuine chuckle at that. Amy responded in kind and huffed a small laugh, jabbing her elbow lightly into his side.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. You might find that you’re about to be forced into the same situation with your partner. For all we know, they’ll lack the intellect to know when your threats are no longer just that.” It was Sonic’s turn to groan now, to Amy’s amusement.

“You said the board might be inclined to change their minds. About what? How nice my partner is? Is that it?”

“No no. They might change their minds about whether a partner will really do anything since your report is less than friendly. Your descriptions are enough to outweigh the horror stories we were told as children or at camp.”

“What? Did they really want a storybook fantasy? I’m a hitman, not a protagonist in some fanfiction.” Amy shook her head in a scolding manner before stepping out of his reach once they reached a sealed metal door. It was ingrained with an emerald with a fleur-de-lis at its centre. In the wall next to it, was a panel with a keypad and a small black screen.

Amy typed in the pin and a small hatch opened below the panel, a tablet of sorts pushing out face-up. She swiftly pulled off her right glove before setting her perfectly manicured hand on the surface, a pulsing green light scanning it and letting out a beep of satisfaction. With the confirmation of her identity, the sound of a large deadbolt releasing resounded against their ears as the metal door in front of them slid back to reveal the room behind it.

One thing could be said about it. It was definitely no broom closet.

There were countless platforms suspended in the air connecting various sides of the room as well as to the transparent elevator in the centre. Holographs of the planet, graphs, video footage, documents, images, and heaven knew what else projected themselves in the air – some looking incredibly small and some taking up about two floors of room. All the windows had been covered by metallic blinds that were currently closed, the only natural light coming from the skylights in the roof and the rest from the many monitors that were on and the countless light fixtures and lamps that were lit. Mobians were milling about everywhere, some talking to companions with takeaways cups of hot drinks in hand and others by themselves with headsets in chattering furiously to the person on the other line.

And yet somehow, this was the slowest the lower Transmissions and Technology Centre or TTC has been in a while.

Sonic felt Amy’s hand, now clad once again in her glove, brush against his elbow and almost stuck it out again for her, but instead tucked it as close to his body as he could with his hands slipping into his pockets as he remembered what they agreed upon. She seemed to catch on to what he was thinking because she gave him a vengeful glare that didn’t quite match with the pout on her lips. He only offered her a sly smile as he stepped towards the nearest platform for the elevator.

He found the transparent glass of the elevator already open and the warm yellow light from its overhead circular light fixture pouring onto the ground cheerfully, so he stepped in dutifully and waited for Amy to join him. Just as she did though, someone shouted from down the platform.

“Hold the doors!”

The universe was clearly back on the azure’s side because walking briskly towards them, was none other than the man their deal was brokered on. He did nothing but put on his most enigmatic smile and throw the pink hedgehog at his side a subtle wink as Silver bounded into the elevator at her side. She begrudgingly pressed the button to close the elevator doors before pressing the seven on the panel of gilded buttons. Silver eagerly pressed the nine before settling in at her side.

The elevator was by no means cramped. If anything, it could fit about ten more people in here and it would still be reasonably comfortable to stand in. Apparently, secret agencies spoiled themselves in every regard – even in small instances such as elevator room. The downside to this, however, was that it moved at an indolent pace made more for marvelling at the sheer expanse of the room than for getting from one floor to another with haste. Clearly, the universe was trying to make it up to the agent for their fallout back in Russia.

“Hey, thanks for waiting,” Silver said in lieu of greeting, eyes immediately setting themselves on Amy who was trying her best to seemingly shrink into Sonic’s side, said hedgehog shifting away as subtly as he could.

“I…” She spared a glance at Sonic’s face and saw the words he was saying through his eyes. “No problem. You’d have done the same.”

The silver-furred male seemed to take this as a compliment and beamed brighter than the light above them. It was cut short though when he realised that he was in the elevator too.

“Ah, Agent 47. It’s been a while.” Sonic could see how hard the male was trying to remain unaffected by his presence, so he decided to throw a dog a bone – for the sake of the bet of course – and give him a small smile.

“It has, hasn’t it? Though the last time I saw you, I’d thought that it’d be the last I saw you alive.”

The male groaned. “Never again shall it be that that much alcohol is consumed by a lightweight like me.” He declared matter-of-factly. Sonic only snorted.

“Mhmm… Until the next potluck that is,” he added with a wink, smile turning into a sly grin. This seemed to bring out some authenticity in the intelligence officer because he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck before refocusing his attention on Amy.

“Chaos can only hope not. Going for drinks alone is never a good idea, but potlucks seem to change that perspective. That and office bets.”

“Then get yourself a drinking buddy,” the agent shrugged, making sure to glance offhandedly at Amy.

“Maybe 47 would be the perfect one? I’m not much of a drinker,” Amy said airily, like she wasn’t trying to deflect the question before it came. The azure wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t you lie. You challenged me to a drinking match just two weeks ago and won. Granted they were spirits mixed with other drinks, but they were still a hell of a struggle.”

Amy scoffed despite herself, “Not my fault you can’t handle your booze.”

“Well, maybe you could teach us how?” Silver asked hopefully. It was almost to painful to look at the pleading expression on his face, all wide eyes and shy smile. Though, being the sadist that he was, Sonic found it damn-near hilarious. He bit back the urge to laugh and instead replaced it with the urge to meddle.

“I can’t, unfortunately. I have to train a rookie this week, so I’ll need to stay as sober as possible to do it.”

“Then maybe just some food and drinks? Nothing hectic. You can regale us of your drinking and hangover escapades and we’ll learn the old-fashioned way – from second-hand embarrassment.” Sonic couldn’t stop the way his eyebrows shot up when he heard Amy genuinely chuckle. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of Silver’s quip or the idea of talking about her college days but it was still there, and she was willingly letting it show. He almost laughed himself.

“That’d be great. I do warn you though that it’ll take more than a few drinks to get the real juicy ones.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll schedule a day for all three of us and help you get her shit-faced drunk so that we can both hear it,” the azure joked, smirking down at Amy as he did.

“You won’t be there for dinner too?” Amy asked with feigned innocence and dismay. Sonic merely feigned regret and apologetics as he replied.

“No. I have to be with the rookie. It sucks, but it’s the only way to make sure he meets my standards. You two can still have fun though.”

“It does suck. We’ll schedule that bar crawl real soon though so that you can drink yourself stupid when he drives you nuts,” Silver chirped, ever the optimist. Ever trying to impress. “I’m free this evening if you’d wanna go tonight? Doesn’t have to be for long, maybe an hour or so. I’d love to hear your stories.”

“I…” Amy almost physically bristled at the blunt question. Sonic had to stealthily slip a hand behind her and gently rub her back until she stopped tensing.

“I… I’d love to.” She finally said, sagging a little as she gave the intelligent officer a shy smile.

_Wait, shy? Since when has Ames ever done shy? Just what did I press when I touched her?_

It was at that moment that the elevator pinged as they reached the seventh floor. The pink hedgehog threw one last smile Silver’s way, told him she knocked off at five, and flounced out of the elevator as though nothing had really happened. Both agent and intelligence officer stared almost dumbfoundedly as she fluttered away like some kind of mirage. It took a few moments, but eventually Sonic gave him a nod before briskly walking to catch up with her, the elevator doors whooshing shut behind him.

She’d thankfully been stopped by a passing officer who handed her a familiar manila folder before retreating down the platform. Sonic glanced over her head to read it when he’d caught up to her.

“Crap. I’d left this in the twin destroyers’ office. I’m shocked they even cared enough to send it to me.”

“They probably don’t want to give the board anymore reason to come breathing down their bones,” the pink hedgie shrugged before closing the file and handing it to him.

“You know who’d love to breathe down your bones though?” Sonic asked smugly, shit-eating grin already creeping onto his face. Amy practically hissed as she swatted his shoulder because she couldn’t quite reach his head.

“Shut up,” she threatened.

“I told you he’d ask you to dinner if you weren’t so vicious. For fuck’s sake, he seemed determined to do it today even if you wouldn’t let him.”

“Okay, okay! You were right. Now I’m going to dinner with him. Are you happy now?” A quick glance out of the corner of his eye towards the elevator told him that Silver definitely was as he grinned and nearly danced his way down the platform on the ninth floor.

“Hate me all you like now, but you’ll be thanking me later,” Sonic chided, lips still stuck in that smug-ass grin.

“Does it even count since you practically meddled and aligned the situation just so he’d have a window to ask?” She countered, eyes narrowed in a mix of vengefulness and annoyance.

“We never settled on specifics, sweetheart. Plus, he used the opportunity. He could’ve decided to chicken out, but he didn’t, so he totally asked you out himself and out of his own volition.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Amy looked like she might add in her own rebuttal with her eyes flaring, her finger raised and her mouth open, but no words came out. She moved her lips rapidly but not a peep spilled forth. It’s when Sonic waggles an eyebrow that she well and truly gives in.

“Oh, whatever. Fine, you were right, and I was wrong. Happy?” she drawled, her earlier offence now melting into wry amusement.

“Very. Bragging rights have never felt so sweet.” She gave a snort that landed on the fair side of agreement before gesturing for the azure to follow as she began a walk down the platform and past multiple offices, suddenly very much business-like.

“I don’t know how much of the file you’ve read, but I’ll give you a basic rundown on him. He’s twenty-seven and graduated from Columbia early with a graduate’s degree in Computer Science and Information Systems at age twenty-five. Was in foster care for most of his life before being adopted by some scientist and his granddaughter at age eleven. Went back into foster care at age fifteen after a tragic accident killed them but ran away at age sixteen.

“Reappeared as a legal citizen as soon as he turned eighteen and could apply for uni. Ever since his graduation though, he’s been involved in some major crimes including the jewel heist six months ago and the massive CIA hack a year ago. He’s supposed to go to jail for about twenty years, but the thing is, they can’t prove he did it. Sure, they can trace the laptops, computers, and stuff to him, but they can’t prove he did it because his alibis are almost watertight.”

“Then how the hell do they know it was him?”

Amy gave a weary sigh as she said, “He’s got this air about him. An air that says he definitely did it and is proud that he did it but doesn’t give a shit that you can’t prove it. Like he delights in the fact that you can’t prove it and might go crazy trying.”

Sonic’s eyes narrow of their own accord, mind whirring as he tries to paint the best picture of him as he can.

“He comes off as arrogant, Son– 47.” She corrected just as the beginnings of a frown marred the agent’s face. She didn’t comment or apologise on her slip, however, choosing instead to play it off as though nothing had happened. “And I do warn you that it might irritate you to the utmost degree. So my only request is that you don’t kill him on sight. He’s our best shot at keeping the board from suspending you and while you could probably find good offences to get him expelled on, it’ll only prove what they’re trying to say.”

They had slowed to a stop outside one of the office doors near the end of the room, completely unmarked and seemingly unused. It looked like every other one except that the blinds to it were closed and no lights seemed to be on. It felt ominous. Foreboding almost.

“Agent 47, I kindly ask that you don’t shoot your partner,” Amy’s voice had dropped into its normal authoritarian-like quality and only a hint of friendliness and well-meaning exasperation tugged at her words. He didn’t respond to her though. Simply turned the knob of the door because he felt compelled by the odd feeling that had suddenly flowered in his gut, and made to step in, but stopped short out of nothing but pure instincts and training.

The room’s laser grid had somehow been initiated from the inside and was currently alive and crackling with warmth and energy, a beam of it almost humming near the buttons of the agent’s blazer. The main lights were off but the lamp on the desk was on and was brightly illuminating both the monitor with the clear instructions to initiate the laser grid sequence and silent alarm and the face of the male who’d done it.

Sonic took one look at his long black quills striped with a deep red – some of which were pointed upwards –, his tan muzzle, lean-looking body covered in black ripped jeans, a bloodred shirt, and a black bomber jacket, fluffy white tuft of chest fur, and gleaming ruby red eyes that practically oozed confidence and rebelliousness and malice and so many other contemptuous emotions, and then looked at the field of lasers perfectly set to form a sort of cage around him without touching him in any way. He let himself hear the blood thrumming in his veins and through his ears as he let his mind war on the many, _many_ thoughts going through his head about this guy. All of which seemed to be warning him to stay the fuck out of dodge.

But then his gaze locked with his and there was peculiar quietness to his thoughts as those eyes studied him intently. He wanted to look away. To look away and let anger and annoyance slip in and reprimand the hell out of him for thinking he’s hot shit that can just hack into their computers and casually activate their office’s security system. To look away and let contempt slip in and threaten to kill him where he stood. To look away and let emotions spur him into action as he sometimes let them do. But he couldn’t. So, he instead held his gaze as he addressed Amy again in his most serious and business-like voice.

“I want to Ms Rose. But… I just might not.”


	2. You’ll Find That My Tolerance Is Like My Conscience — Non-existent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissism? He could handle. Superiority complexes? Those too. But give him the embodiment of arrogance that happens to be Chaos and Power’s love child and you’ll find that this might be problem he just can’t handle.

There was a charged silence in the room. Partially from the hum of the laser beams and partially from the heated stare between the two males. Nothing existed outside of the intensity of that moment. Nothing _could_ exist outside of that moment because for it to exist, they’d have to think it did and, in all honesty, not much thinking was happening inside of Sonic’s head. Nothing apart from the indistinct shouting that his thoughts seemed to be doing. He couldn’t tell where one thought ended and where another lost its sanity. It was such an overpowering loudness that it was almost quiet. And _he_ was causing it – just by looking at him with that potent glare.

He’d had enough. Whether it was of the silence or the madness in his own mind, he wasn’t sure, but he needed it to stop. So, he did what he did best.

He provoked.

“Who the fuck _are_ you?” The words tasted acerbic and bitter on his tongue as he spat them out, his earlier hateful disposition quickly outweighing any other emotion as a sneer tugged at his lips and nose. The ebony furred male scoffed in what sounded like disappointment before answering.

“Seeing as you spent your walk here gossiping about me, I’m a little shocked you’re still asking,” he deadpanned, eyes quickly losing all their heat and lounging into boredom. Sonic found that the _sight_ of him losing interest was more irksome than the sound.

Speaking of sound, his voice was a lot deeper than he’d expected it to be. A lot smoother too. It gave off such a sudden air of maturity and sanctimony that he spent a split-second feeling rueful of his choice of words before quickly discarding the emotion and speaking again.

“That would suggest that you were worth talking about to begin with.”

“Oh, but aren’t I?” He asked, mock innocence dripping from his words while cold amusement kindled in his eyes. “One would think that the man holding your career so delicately in his hands would be.”

Sonic gritted his teeth to hold back the growl he felt rising. Amy hadn’t been lying. Thirty seconds into a conversation with him and his arrogance felt like it might sink the whole of Australia. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what buttons to press to rile him up. It didn’t help at all. Chaos, if it weren’t for the field of lasers between them, he might’ve moved to throttle him in hopes that it’d choke the attitude right out of him.

The red-streaked male gave a huff of laughter through his nose as his lips curled into a smirk before turning to face the monitor and typing furiously on the keyboard. In the blink of an eye the lasers had been disabled and the main light had been switched on, illuminating the birchwood desk nicely and bringing the few cabinets and the potted plant in the room into focus. The pale blue walls of the office seemed more artistic under the glare of the fluorescent bulbs and the polished oak floor made it seem more cheerful than the idea of it being an office suggested. It was soothing almost.

The azure didn’t even realise his spines were raised in defence until they slowly lowered down towards his back and flattened as he took the room in. He took in a deep breath to fully placate them before turning to address Amy again, only to find that the door to the office had been closed at some point and she had disappeared. He made it a point in his head to chew her out later for leaving him alone with this psychopath before turning to look at him again, taking the time to fully examine him.

He noted that his earlier observations had been correct but had more details to add to them. For instance, his quills did turn upwards, but two particularly long ones in the centre of all of them flowed suavely down towards his back. A stray thought pondered if they were naturally like that or if he styled them meticulously every day. That stray thought’s companion suggested he run a hand through them and find out. The azure pointedly decided to overlook those thoughts and focus on what his eyes were showing him.

The hedgehog’s muzzle was tan, which offset the white of his chest fur well, almost appealingly. His nose was pert and shiny but somehow made the look in his ruby red eyes so much more intense. What he noticed the most, however, was the longer he looked, the more similarities he could draw between the male’s looks and his own. From the shape of their eyes to the size of their muzzles and even the positioning of their ears.

They were eerily similar and yet strikingly different. Not just in appearance, but in personality too – Sonic possessing a natural charm, wit and sharp tongue while his counterpart seemed to have a natural way with words as well as an enviable control over his emotions. It was almost like looking in a mirror. But a mirror from a tacky ‘Hall of Mirrors’ at a state fair.

While he’d been musing, however, the ebony male had turned to face him as well and seemed to be just as transfixed with studying him as Sonic had been with studying him. Or at least Sonic thought he was. His eyes weren’t hate-filled and confident, but rather blank and observant. Like he was a new notebook waiting to be written in. His head – probably without realising it – was cocked slightly to the side as his eyes roamed over his body before shooting up and locking with his own.

It took a lot of willpower to not succumb to the trance-like quiet his stare induced, but with an elegance that spoke of lots of practice, Sonic managed to tug on his sleek, black gloves, flex his fingers dextrously, tighten his red tie, and move to sit in the chair in front of where his supposed-partner sat. The male continued to study him intently as he did so, eyes the perfect picture of impassive and yet mildly intrigued. He found it unsettling that eyes could hold such contradictory emotions with ease. Unsettling and yet mystifying.

There was another brief moment of silence as they just stared at each other. And then, “What in Chaos’ name did you do to end up needing a babysitter?”

“What in Chaos’ name did you do to _become_ one?” That seemed to throw him off kilter because the mild intrigue seemed to blend with… Distaste? Annoyance? Constipation? It was hard to tell when his body language was screaming different things than his eyes were. It made it hard to decide what feelings he was showing and what ones he was hiding. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t know him well. Not that he wanted to know him well, just that it was weird having to talk to someone whose emotions and tells you weren’t privy to. It felt like a challenge.

_It’s a good thing I like challenges then._

“’End up on as many shit-lists as I have and you’ll find that you’ll do anything to avoid jailtime,” was his answer. It was noncommittal and vague. So carefully vague. It almost made him ask what he’d done. But then he’d stopped and realized that’s what he wanted. He wanted to prove that Sonic knew nothing about him and was somehow inferior to him both by knowing less and by succumbing to curiosity. Well, too bad for him that the agent wasn’t one to swallow his pride.

“That might be how you end up on one of those shit-lists. You prob’ly got someone’s kid killed when you babysat them.”

The male’s stance shifted from one of arrogance and confidence to that of a predator regarding its prey as he said, “You’ll find that I don’t take well to insolence.”

Sonic merely continued lounging in his chair, ears not even twitching at the obvious threat, as a smirk found its way to his muzzle before saying, “You didn’t deny it. Funny. It seems the thing that got you in trouble is how you’ll get out of it.”

“And if I told you that I’m the one that killed them?” A raised eyebrow was his only provocation to speak, the rest of the ebony male’s body still and taut in the chair. It reminded the agent briefly of a leopard about to pounce. He willed the nausea he felt building at the idea of a murdered child at this male’s hands to fall away as he focused on the image of the leopard coiled in the grass, all sinew and stealth and cunning. Anything to stop the violent sick feeling he was getting from the idea that this guy was a child murderer.

There were a lot of people the agent could kill without hesitation or regret, but kids were nowhere near one of them. One had to be completely morally decrepit to kill a child and, contrary to popular belief, Sonic was far from tossing his morals in the nearest furnace. The idea that the hedgehog in front of him, however, wasn’t above that made him simultaneously sick and angry. But then he paused yet again.

_This could just be another trick to rile me up. To make me look weak or stupid._

And yet it might not be. The odds of either seemed even. That didn’t make the choice of what to do easier though.

It was a long while before he could speak again, but when he did, his voice was firm and unyielding despite its softness.

“Then I’d kill you too.” Sonic wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe an evil glint in his eyes or a gulp of fear or maybe even a nod of approval. But not laughter. Not the cynical, condescending sound that was his counterpart laughing darkly at him. It enraged him. It made his blood boil beneath his pelt and made his teeth grind together almost painfully and made his thoughts sharpen and tune into a single-minded, cold-blooded conclusion and made him see red instantly. He didn’t even have time to process what he was doing before he was standing ramrod straight while gripping the male by his stupid jacket and snarling in his face.

“Do you think I’m joking here, pal?” He could barely hear the words himself with how deeply his snarl gripped at them. He could barely hear anything really, aside from the way his heart was thump-thumping in his chest and the roar of blood to and from his ears and the short, shallow pants that were slipping through his lips.

“You must be. Your board thinks you’re loose enough to need to be tied down by someone outside your own agency. They clearly don’t trust you to be alone. And why would they? Look at what you’re doing now. Not really disproving them are you, sweetheart?” Venom. That’s what his words were. Venom in a wound that had already been festering. Venom that was numbing the connection between his brain and his muscles. Venom that made him itch and burn all over, but that he couldn’t get rid of. The feeling consumed him. Flooded whatever was left of his senses until he was moving purely out instinct and nothing else.

He felt stars explode in his vison as he threw his head forward until it collided violently with the streaked male’s own. And yet, somehow, he stayed standing. He somehow still clutched his jacket firmly in his grasp. He let that small victory spur his actions on even more. Without another pause, he released his right hand’s grip before curling his fingers into a fist and launching it at his partner’s jaw, the sound of flesh connecting with bone quelling his anger slightly. _Slightly._

He expected the punch to leave him reeling. To leave him a blubbering, apologetic mess in his grip. But he had no such luck. Instead, another peal of laughter punctured the heady silence as the ebony hedgehog brought his head back up and gave a feral grin with manic red eyes before launching a white-gloved hand at the hand still holding him and twisting it viciously. Sonic allowed it to happen if only to avoid fracturing his wrist, but that acquiescence cost him because not even a split second later, an elbow lunged for his face and hit him square on the mouth, causing the tang of iron to fill his mouth and nose as blood began pooling.

With a pained growl, he wrenched his arm free and staggered back with a hand clasping itself over his mouth. He thought the distance might work in his favour or at least slow the male down, but whatever luck he’d been using had just run out and in a heartbeat, the bomber jacket was being discarded and in another, he was leaping over the desk towards him and in another, he was on the floor with a pair of gloved hands strangling him.

He shot his hands up to claw at the appendages but quickly found it futile. He looked up at the face hovering inches above his and saw nothing but loathing and animosity in his bloodred eyes and snarling face. He wanted to hiss at him. To hiss and mock him. To just voice his rage – but instead he sputtered and gurgled as he fought to get air in and keep the blood in his mouth from pouring down his lungs. Panic threatened to seize him and let him flounder, but he pushed it away while letting his mind slip into the same state it always did when he was on a mission. He let himself focus on his immediate surroundings and analysed everything around him from the bare wood planks to his own clothes. He let his mind become a predator on the prowl. There were no longer morals to guide him or a sense of right and wrong to second-guess his decisions.

Only instincts and the need to survive.

So, with a strangled cry, he jerked his hips upwards, which jostled the hedgehog who’d been straddling them into the air, before slipping his knees upwards toward his chest until his feet planted firmly on the ebony’s torso. He kicked so hard he swore he felt bone and heard cracking, but the male was off him and that’s all that mattered.

Sonic coughed as he greedily gulped in air while he rose to his feet shakily. His counterpart had fallen on to his back and was hissing violently from where he lay. He looked to be in pain.

_Good._

In a flash, he was upon him and was pounding one, two, three fists into his mouth and face, the tang and smell of iron and copper filling the room and incensing him further. He didn’t even see the uppercut coming until he felt himself bite painfully into his tongue and moan at the pain. The world tilted violently as he felt himself being flipped back onto his back, but this time with a flurry of punches landing on his chest and torso, each one leaving him more breathless than the last and intensifying the cracking feeling along his ribs. He willed himself to ignore the pain as he launched his legs in a backwards motion until the pair of them were grappling and rolling along the floor.

Punches and kicks and knees passed in a blur as the two moved so quickly and yet not quick enough. Nasty blue and purple bruises formed along their faces and beneath their clothes, smudges and smears of blood caked their fur, and bones creaked in the hurricane of motion. At some point, Sonic had thrown the male against the desk with so much force that it broke in half – the monitor from before crashing to the ground and splintering as it broke. At another, Sonic’s head had been slammed against the wall so hard that spiderweb cracks formed and his vision blacked-out for a moment before refocusing.

Time seemed to lose all meaning in that brawl. Seconds crawled like hours and minutes felt like they were an impossibility. It was only when Sonic heard the office door swing open on its hinges followed by a distressed voice that he paused briefly.

“Sonic? Mother of Chaos! What are you two doing!” Came Amy’s shrill cry as she completely forgot how to intone. The azure only cast her a strained sideways glance from where he sat on top of the ebony poised to beat the ever-loving shit into him – or better yet out of him. Her appearance, however, had distracted him for long enough for his supposed-partner to knee him in the stomach before pushing him backwards, grappling his arms behind his back, and pressing him against the cold, harsh wall nearest the ruined desk.

Pain filled every crevice in his body. So deeply that he couldn’t even hear what Amy was saying anymore. She sounded like she was slurring or like he was underwater, and she was trying to yell something at him from the surface, the water – which was probably just a result of the light-headedness from blood loss – distorting whatever it is she said. All he could feel was the pain that fought to drag him under, and hands covered in tattered gloves restraining his arms, and hips pinning him firmly in place.

In a last-ditch effort, he flung his head back and the red-streaked male must’ve been as exhausted as he was, because he didn’t dodge and stumbled back as his forehead made contact with Sonic’s sharp quills. He heard a hiss and used it as a point of reference before spinning around – which almost caused him to tumble to the ground – and lunging, his hands grabbing blindly before setting on the male’s throat.

It was his turn to strangle as hard as he could as he stared contemptuously at his partner’s face though it looked a lot blurrier than before. He pulled his weight off the ebony’s body – just when had they fallen? – and tried to focus his vison. His head felt heavy and one eye wasn’t cooperating at all. Despite this, however, he kept his grip tight and let his opponent’s garbled and strangled noises wash over his predatory state of mind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that he should stop. That he’d won and didn’t have to kill him to prove it. But he felt too far gone to stop now. Felt a sudden need to kill him. Even if it was only for his benefit.

Suddenly, arms were under his own and he was being dragged away from his enemy’s body hastily and efficiently. He tried to thrash against the hands, tried to pull away and return his hands to their place around his throat. But the weight of pain and exhaustion was stronger and made his movements sluggish and sloppy. He felt like jelly. But like a pool of lava at the same time. He felt so wobbly but could feel everything searing beneath his skin too.

Sleep was quickly beginning to look like a great idea as he was made to stand and walk somewhere. His steps faltered every time and a face came into view as he felt himself get lifted by strong arms. Amber eyes scanned him with… With… With…

The edges of his vison began to blacken while his eyelids drooped lower and lower until there was nothing but the abyss of blackness known as sleep waiting to greet him. He grabbed onto one thought before he let himself descend into its clutches.

_Enemy. He’s my enemy. He strangled me. Chaos, I hate him. I hate him._

**_I hate him._ **

~~~~~

_He felt like he was floating._

_The inky blackness from before had faded into a muted white that he was pleasantly floating in. He felt light in the empty space. Light and youthful and carefree and exuberant. He felt like he did before at a time that felt like an entirely different existence. And yet the thought of it didn’t weigh him down. In fact, it washed over him and spiralled upwards like it was a great, winged beast, bringing him more peace, more tranquillity, more liveliness with its grace and precision and largeness that made him feel secure. The winged beast embodied a sort of detached wonder that he couldn’t help but delight in._

_The space around him was blank as far as the eye could see. But it didn’t feel empty. Quite the opposite really. It felt full. Full of a warmth and temperate that rivalled that of a baby in its mother’s womb. It felt loving. It felt safe. The space all around him was humming with an energy that beckoned him to relax and smile and play and be free and just exist. It was akin to the feeling of the wind in one’s quills, shade on a blistering day, pets snuggling up with you for warmth – all the happy and content ideas of the world being meshed into a single pure being._

_It was euphoric. It was childlike. It was quickly running out of similes that accurately described it without getting repetitive. But he revelled in it. He let the weightlessness hug him and hold him like a lover would. He laid back and let himself float in the white expanse like nothing was wrong. Like there was nothing else. Like this was his normal life._

_And it was wholesome…_

_But then…_

_Suddenly there was screaming, but it wasn’t his own. It was so frantic and loud and deranged and… high-pitched. He winced at how heart shattering it was. At how frightening it was. At how… familiar it was._

_The muted white light quickly felt like it was pulsing. Like it was warping and shifting and trying to reach for him but not in the same way it had before. It felt like it wanted to get rid of him. Like it wanted to hurl him around until he blacked-out. Like he was a disturbance in what had once been an angelic peace. Like he was the one who had disturbed that peace. He wanted to move. To run away until the white settled and cradled him like an infant again. To swim away to safer waters. But…_

_Everything felt sluggish. Like he was being dragged through water or like there were countless objects slowing him down. The weightlessness had disappeared, replaced by cold emotions that threatened to strangle him if he bothered chasing the weightlessness from before. Every move he made felt too slow. Everything he did felt too slow. It was like he’d been caught in between two places and couldn’t quite decide where he should be. The notion was hollowing. And yet, it made him ache within himself. An ache that no amount of breathing seemed to fix. An ache that he couldn’t see or touch, only feel. An ache he wasn’t sure anyone but himself was aware of._

_He tried to call out to the person who’d screamed before, but his traitorous body didn’t make a peep. The shaking feeling of his world caving in on itself from before had vanished and had left behind a harrowing silence. He suddenly felt small. So small and insignificant and useless. He wanted to hide away. Hide away from the emotions and feelings and pseudo-reality he was experiencing. Hide and never have to see it again._

_He forced himself to turn around, however, and found that a white-gloved hand was floating behind him. There was no body attached to it. Only the hand with its lax and inviting fingers. He swore that if he focused enough, he could feel the weightlessness from before radiating from it. And yet it was a different sort of weightlessness. One that wasn’t free and invigorating and happy, but steadfast, predatory, and cold._

_He stared at it._

_He stared and stared and stared until he was sure he could see the shape of the hand ingrained in his eyelids if he closed them. He stared…_

_And then took it._

_~~~~~_

Air felt like a holy treasure as he gulped it in greedily, his eyes flying open in panic and darting about frantically as they tried and failed to analyse the roof above them. He screwed them shut when they glanced at a searing, bright, white light and intended to turn his head away from its glare but found that it felt too weighted to move. As a result, he could feel the offending light shining through his blue eyelids and attempting to burn his retinas even while his eyes were closed. He hissed at the horrid feeling of his eyes burning but sputtered slightly from how dry and scratchy his throat felt.

He forced himself to lay still and give his eyes time to adjust to the brightness of the room. It took a lot longer than he would’ve liked, but soon it didn’t sting as badly when the light shined on his eyelids. With sceptical movements, the azure slowly began to unscrew his eyes – eyelashes fluttering and distorting his surroundings briefly. Eventually, he was able to fully open his eyes without any pain aside from a dull throb in his head from how intense the light was. Seriously, where the hell could he be for the lights to be trying to kill him?

He tried to take in a deep breath to assuage the ache in his head but instead, feeling rushed back into every part of his body as though some dam had been broken and everything hurt. He was suddenly acutely aware of how every breath he took burned his chest and made him feel like he was breathing in glass shards instead of oxygen. He suddenly realised how it wasn’t both eyes that were open, only his right one and even then, it seemed to be doing it with a lot of reluctance. And he could suddenly feel the heaviness in all his muscles even as they lay unmoving.

“Somebody get the city council on the line. Tell ‘em parades are now banned,” is what he meant to say, but found that his lips were swollen and numb and stubbornly attempting to stick together. His nose was thoroughly blocked so any sound felt completely cut off and restricted. The power of speech seemed to be a part of the many things that evaded him in this current moment so instead, he sounded a little like this:

“Sssommby et da seey hounsil unn da nuuh. Tum perds er nggh bad.”

He gave an upset groan – both from the pain and the annoyingness of being rendered so useless. He wasn’t even aware someone else was in the room until a figure came to stand on the right side of the bed he was sure he was laying on (if the pillows under his head were any indication) and took his right hand in theirs.

Despite the terrible ache throughout his body and the fogginess of his mind, he was able to notice that his hand was gloveless while the other’s was clad in white gloves. The exposure made him long for his sleek black gloves. The longing made him realise that he wasn’t even sure how he’d come to part with them in the first place. The realisation made him use all the energy he had to turn and tilt his face toward the figure until their face came sharply into view.

“Leave the revenge schemes for later. They’ll just make your head hurt more,” Amy chided as she calmly stroked Sonic’s bare backhand. How she knew he was planning on lighting whoever’d done this to him on fire, he wasn’t sure. But then he remembered that this was Amy. And that Amy knew what his imaginary friend’s name had been. Surely, she’d know just how his mind worked.

He moved to speak, but Amy gave a sharp shake of her head, eyebrows furrowing deeply over her jade eyes.

“You’re in a lot of pain. Speaking will only make it worse. So, for once in your life, shut up.”

Her words held no real malice and a wry smirk accompanied them. It was enough for him to chuckle. Or at least try to.

 _It’s the thought that counts anyway._ He thought as he sputtered and coughed quite violently at the action. Amy was immediately patting his back and cooing reassuringly at him when it happened and only shifted to grab a glass of water that was on top of a polished, white bedside table and angle it towards his lips.

“Drink,” she commanded softly. Sonic needed no further invitation as he parted his lips and let the cool, soothing liquid sate his parched throat – clearing away with it some of the scratchiness and dryness in his voice. He hummed in satisfaction as he guzzled all of it in one go, already eager to get another glass past his lips. Amy, however, seemed to have other plans.

“Now that I’m a bit surer that you won’t die spontaneously,” she started. “What the fuck were you two thinking?” Her eyes were bright with a hardly subdued rage and her body seemed to be buzzing with a barely restrained need to eviscerate.

For a wary second, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about. His mind was still reeling from the amount of pain his body was in and the throbbing in his skull wasn’t making it any easier. He thought of asking her what she meant or at least gesturing as much, but the fog in his brain dissipated with a speed that bordered on criminal as his memory instantly reminded him of how exactly he’d ended up in this bed to begin. Amy seemed to notice his sudden epiphany and it somehow angered her further. She glared holes in his skull as she began her tirade.

“You could’ve fucking murdered each other – not that you failed from a lack of trying. If me and Silver hadn’t separated you from him, Chaos knows how much more blood would stain those walls. You’re on the board’s shit-list, Sonic!– ” he winced violently at her use of his name and not his alias, the wince causing more pain to flower along his torso which she seemed to pointedly ignore “– You’re on a shit-list and yet you’re going around fucking people up like you won’t get sus-fucking-pended if you do.

“I know you don’t like him. Fuck, I don’t like him either. But right now, you need him to keep your job and he needs you to stay out of jail. I’m not asking you to go around singing ‘Kumbaya’ and fucking each other seven ways from Sunday. I’m just asking you to be civil. You’re grown-ass men! And yet I leave you alone in a room for five goddamn minutes and find both of you on the brink of unconsciousness. Chaos, fuck.”

Amy’s hands had wandered into her quills while she was berating him and had pulled at them mercilessly while she spoke. She looked beyond stressed. Stressed, annoyed, angry, and… Worried. Because that was worry underlying her words. That was worry making her eyes glaze over. That was worry making her breaths come out so huffed and short. That was worry in its entirety. And he felt a deep pull in his core when he realised it was because of him.

Despite the pain licking along his bones and the protests coming from the rest of his body, Sonic placed his palms on the bed and moved to sit up, Amy instinctively moving to help him. She only realised what he was doing when he was already propped up against the headboard with the pillows cradling his middle-back. Her eyes were shooting objections at him with the skill of a trained archer, but he ignored them. He still had almost no control over his speech, so instead of offering her words of encouragement and apologies, he opened his arms in an invitation.

She glanced between the outstretched limbs and his eyes repeatedly before cracking slightly and falling into his embrace, arms snaking around his torso and squeezing lightly, mindful of the bandages he had roughly glimpsed when he had moved to sit up. With what little strength he had, he wrapped his arms around her and held tight, his cheek resting affectionately on top of her head. She said nothing to him as they embraced, and he offered no sounds either. They merely let their silence and embrace say everything for them.

They stayed like that for what felt like ages before Amy said, “He may look like he isn’t much, but he decked you a lot harder than I thought he could. He’s a better fighter than either of us anticipated. It means if he were to try again purposefully, there’s a chance he might beat you. I don’t know him well enough to decide if he’d kill you or not and that worries me. Because that means there’s a card on the table that says he could kill you. And I might take the piss out of you a lot, but you are still my friend and it would still break me if anything happened to you.”

He wanted to tell her that he’d never let it get to that. That if it did, he’d make sure the ebony went down with him. That he’d come up with a master plan to avoid it all together… But he couldn’t. Not only because his vocal chords were like bricks mortared together but because he didn’t want to lie to her like that. Truth was, he was also contemplating that possibility. It didn’t scare him shitless as it probably should’ve, but it did leave him a tiny bit more reluctant to go to throws with the guy again. Not enough that he’d stop entirely if it came to it, but enough that he’d at least pretend to consider stopping before going at it. He couldn’t voice any of this though, so he opted for rubbing Amy’s arm gently.

“I'm still angry at you for being impulsive enough to actually start a fight with the guy and I’m still annoyed at the fact that you don’t seem to care about the very obvious shit-list with your name on it, but for now I’m just worried about whether or not you’ll be okay by yourself. And with him.”

He lifted his head off hers and looked deeply into her eyes before flashing a manic grin her way, ignoring the stab of pain he felt along his face for it. Amy rolled her eyes and huffed at him, but beneath it he could see a slight glimmering of relief and hope and that was good enough for him. He loosed his arms from around her before crawling back down into the flimsy sheets of the bed he was laying in. He noticed the side guardrails and footboard on it and realized that he was probably in the infirmary. He noted the lack of IVs and machines, however, and made a point to ask Amy about it later. Right now, he needed gloriously dreamless sleep.

Amy seemed to catch on to his intentions and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone before disappearing from his side, the sound of a door clicking shut the only indication that she’d left as he closed his eyes.

He was tempted to think. To think about all that had happened and all that it meant and all he might do and every little detail in between. But he was tired. And in pain. And he’d probably be in the infirmary for quite a bit, so he’d have plenty of time to do it then. So instead, he nestled deeper into the pillows behind his head and allowed the darkness that had been clinging to the edge of his mind the entire time he’d been awake to fully claim him.

And this time, he dreamed of nothing.

~~~~~

Three days later and Sonic was about a hair’s breadth away from decking the doctor next. A baleful glare from Amy while she jotted something down was the only thing stopping him. Remind him again why he cared so much about her opinion?

He scowled as he took in the examination bed in the far corner of the room with a metal medical kit installed on the wall, the small sink lined with various bottles and boxes and a pale blue towel perched on its edge next to it, the two vacant hospital beds on either side of him, the shut metallic slats that made up the entire wall to his right, and the double doors with built in windows for what felt like the millionth time. He was glad that he wouldn’t be seeing this place for a while yet.

The clinical feeling coming from the polished, cream white tiles lining both the floor and walls always grated on him no matter how short a time he spent in the room and this time was no different. It always brushed against something in the far reaches in his mind but never quite drew it out, leave behind a nagging feeling that only served to irritate him the longer he had to feel it. Whether the doctor noticed or not, she didn’t show. She merely continued with her final examination in neutral silence. It only added to Sonic’s annoyance.

“Can I go now?” He found himself saying when the grey mouse with shiny black hair tied in a ponytail finally set down her clipboard. She only pressed her lips into a thin line, glanced pointedly at Amy, and then nodded. The azure had to bite back the need to groan in relief. A good thing he did too, because the mouse spoke softly and suddenly.

“You are lucky it wasn’t anything major. You should be fine for the most part, but your chest will feel a bit tender for a couple more days. Do not engage in any strenuous activity until the tenderness stops, else you’ll be back here again and while I love my job dearly, I can’t say you are the best patient.”

Her eyes danced with a hint of amusement but her smiled seemed strained. Like she was doing it more to cover up a different emotion rather than because she was trying to stifle back laughter. Sonic brushed it off, however, because every doctor that he’d seen always looked at him like that. It was probably from an uncontrollable worry they felt for patients.

“Be glad you only deal with him on occasion and not constantly,” Amy quipped, arms crossed over her neatly pressed navy blue off-shoulder dress. The agent chose to ignore the comment in favour of nodding at the doctor.

“Thanks, doc. I’ll be careful.” She gave a look that said she doubted it before collecting her stuff and leaving.

“Hurry up and get dressed. I need to take you to the eight floor and then I need to go talk with our superiors,” Amy huffed as she picked up a duffle bag from her feet and dumped it onto Sonic’s legs, turning on her heels and walking out of the room, shutting the door quickly yet somehow not aggressively. He marvelled at her ability to mention their superiors without feeling the need to throttle someone before shrugging and rummaging through the bag.

As he dressed in his trademark suit that she had probably ironed and cleaned herself in the way only the two of them knew how, a grimace warped his features. He recalled how the twin destroyers had barged into his room the second he was at least half-conscious and demanded to know what happened. When he’d explained that his supposed-partner was a jackass, they went to berate him about his behaviour and conduct and other things he really didn’t give a shit about but had to pretend to be interested in. Then they’d glanced at his suit at his bedside table and suggested he get a new one to which he had responded with, “That’s like me telling you to replace your mom just ‘cause she’s old” which resulted in yet another scolding.

He’d spent his whole first day in the infirmary being scolded by them. And then the second being both scolded and taught by Amy – for his stupidity and impulsiveness _and_ the ins and outs of what exactly the board had required and agreed upon and all the loopholes in it respectively. The third, he’d been left to ruminate about his own thoughts and feelings. He’d decided that, yes, he’d been a little hasty in fighting the guy and, yes, he oughta take this entire thing seriously if he wanted to get out of it as soon as possible and, yes, he was a much bigger opponent than he’d anticipated. Each thought had been met with a sulk and a pout that he’d never admit to having before being accepted.

With a sense of clarity and coldness now cradling his mind, he buttoned up his blazer, tugged at his beloved gloves, and pulled at his collar before striding confidently for the doors and pushing them open with a flourish. Amy stood against the wall next to them and gave a satisfied, if not slightly proud, nod before they made their way briskly and silently towards the interrogation room.

When they’d reached the unmarked door on the eight floor, Amy turned to him with a pout and resurfacing worry in her eyes.

“I know that there’ll be security in the room and that there’s an entire thick glass wall separating you two, but please be careful. And don’t be stupid. Like I told you before, he thrives on driving people mad. Don’t give him the satisfaction and everything’ll be fine.” It seemed like she was trying to reassure herself more than him, but he nodded all the same. He slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a brief hug before shooting her a comforting smile and turning the knob for the door.

He was greeted by a cold brush of air against his head that sent shivers prickling against his spine uncomfortably. When he wasn’t focusing on making sure he didn’t physically shudder under the icy weight of air, he glanced to the corner in front of him where a Mobian agent clad in a tight-fitting grey suit stood wearing darkened sunglasses and an earpiece. He gave a small incline of his head in acknowledgment and he returned it.

The entire room wasn’t that big. He’d seen bedrooms bigger than it. But the hanging fluorescent lights gave it the impression of being big and ominous and ready to swallow one whole. The walls were painted a dark green that bordered on black and seemed to suck all the light into itself without hesitance. It made the room feel tomb-like. Though it seemed his enemy was very comfortable in the setting because standing across from him, separated only by the thickest glass he’d ever seen, was the hedgehog himself clad in a pair of low-hanging grey sweats (that he refused to look too long at), and a matching long-sleeved grey shirt that clung to him as tightly as his sweats insisted on hanging loosely. What stood out most, however, were his piercing red eyes that gazed bemusedly at him. They were still as bright and infuriating and deceptively beautiful as he wished he didn’t remember, the muted colours making them that much more noticeable and that much harder to avoid looking at – though Sonic was determined to try.

“You live,” the ebony drawled. “And without that big a scratch. You almost look good.”

“Wish I could say the same for you,” the agent said, masking his face into one of neutral impassiveness. And he hadn’t been lying. Because indeed, the ebony’s shoulders were hunched over in a way that suggested he was still sporting a sore ribcage and his lower lip was still busted and jutting out unintentionally in what could be described as the pettiest pout. The hedgehog scowled which only made the pout even more obvious. Sonic refrained from mocking him on it.

“Look,” he started, huffing as he did. “We got off to a terrible start. I’m not saying I regret it, but I am saying that I’m going to look past it for now. We both need each other to save our own hides so it’d be easier if we could at least share the same air without spitting at one another. I’ll be courteous if you can be.”

His supposed-partner only studied him with newfound interest, head once again cocking to the side as he seemed to be searching for something in the agent’s expression, in his words. He didn’t seem to find it, however, because soon his lips thinned into a line and his brows creased, his eyes narrowed while glowing with an emotion he couldn’t name.

“It’s funny how you speak of exchanging hospitality when you don’t even know my name,” was his response, both indignant and yet curious.

“You don’t know mine either,” the agent shot back. This caused his counterpart’s left eyebrow to arch up delicately. He would’ve looked at it to discover if they were groomed had he not been thrown for a loop at what he said next.

“Don’t be so sure, Sonic.”

His hackles raised. His back straightened. His fur stood on edge. And there was a violent thudding in his chest. He ran through multiple deflective manoeuvres but all of them seemed to be too obvious now. Too purposefully succinct. They’d just prove he was right. But wasn’t his silence proving it enough?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought wiggled and squirmed underneath the heavy weight of something he couldn’t be bothered to identify. Like hearing that name had awoken something that had been lying dormant for a while. It hadn’t been the first time he’d heard that name this week. Yet something was different about it now. Like it wasn’t a completely wrong thing to hear. But he just couldn’t understand why.

“What’s your name?” He blurted before his thoughts could overthrow him.

“Shadow,” the ebony replied. There was no deceit in his eyes. No malice. Just something akin to earnest. And a dull glimmer of…

Suddenly, the area just above the eye that had been bruised throbbed piercingly and halted any other thought. His vision blurred as stars cluttered and sparked in his eyes in synch with the painful punch now going through his head.

_For a moment, he saw falling sheets of rain and a pair of sneakers walking towards him while his arm laid outstretched on a tarmac road and then…_

Nothing.

The pain was gone and so was the vision. Leaving behind an azure hedgehog with hands buried in his quills and eyes that were wearily opening. He didn’t even know when he’d moved to do this.

“I’m Shadow the Hedgehog. And it seems to me you have a problem.”

That managed to pull Sonic back into a semblance of reality. He immediately dropped his hands from his quills and instead busied them with imaginary wrinkles and ruffles in his suit, eyes opening fully and staring bemusedly at Shadow even as he felt anxiety and panic nip around his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Settle yourself in _Agent 47_ ,” his enemy said as he used air quotes around the alias, a lazy smirk planting itself on his muzzle.

“And maybe I’ll tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt motivated enough to continue this story from the comments and kudos that I got on the first one and have decided that this is my new favorite story. I hope it becomes yours too ^^” Also, in all honesty, I had no bloody clue where to end this chapter exactly. I'm really making this all up as I go along. Is it that easy to tell? >_<

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was a random, spur of the moment thing that occurred to me while watching a Hitman: Absolution playthrough and then reading up on the lore behind the Hitman franchise. It is my own spin on the story that has been woven by the games and borrows heavily from the franchise but twists it sorta. I guess you'll see what I mean as we go along - assuming you want me to continue this that is ^^" 
> 
> Any and all thoughts and comments would be really appreciated because I have no ruddy clue if I should continue this and would like to know if you guys liked it or not. This fic is not planned out and will be so sporadically updated it isn't funny, but if you are willing to stick around, I can make it as good as I can and with as much sarcasm, wit, and tension as humanely possible :)
> 
> Thank you for even clicking on this fic and reading this chapter to the end xo ❤


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